


Come Little Children; To Weary of Life and Deception

by SurohSopsisofClouds



Series: Deception, Deceit, Dee [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Desperation, Gen, I mean it's implied that it ends well, Implied/Referenced Torture, Running Away, SO, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, but well, running to the fae to solve your problems, the Fae are involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23421658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SurohSopsisofClouds/pseuds/SurohSopsisofClouds
Summary: Deceit had a chance. One chance, to be free of it all. So he ran. He ran, and he never looked back. No matter how loud the screams behind him got.
Series: Deception, Deceit, Dee [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697692
Comments: 5
Kudos: 58





	Come Little Children; To Weary of Life and Deception

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! This is written in a different style than my usual, but I love how it turned out!
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed creating it, and please, leave a comment if you did! Even just a screech in my general direct is always delightful!

_Come little children, I’ll take thee away~_

Deceit climbed up the hill. He’d been walking for almost an hour, and his feet were sore, but it was worth it. He was almost there.

_Into a land, of enchantment~_

Further, a little further now. He could hear music now. Soft, sibylline notes. The footprints left by his shoeless feet were bloody and wet. His face stung.

_Come little children, the time’s come to play~_

Just a few more minutes, then he’d be free. He took another step, warmth dripping down his chin as he moved.

Barking, twigs snapping, people yelling. The sound of it all masked the sound of music from his ears. Fear broke over his face like a rising harvest moon, and he ran, his footprints leading the way to his demise.

_Here in my Garden of Shadows~_

There, there it was! A circle of mushrooms, ten feet across, on the other side of the creek. He could see a figure. They were made of mist?

_Snap, snap, snap._

No, nevermind that! He ran harder, red droplets being pulled off his face by the sudden movements, leaving beautiful splatter marks on the leaves of plants he passed.

 _Follow, sweet children~_  
A brush of wind at his ankle, a fresh streak of red on his neck. A growl, a whimper, a yell. He kept running. He was almost there, he couldn’t give up now, he was so close!

_I’ll show thee the way~_

His feet slapped against the grass, then sand, then mud.

_Brush, shift, smack._

_-ch!_

And that was the water. He sloshed through it, his movements growing more panicked when he realized that he was slowing down. They were going to catch him. They were going to catch him! No, no, faster. Faster!

_Through all the pain and the sorrow~_

His ankle twisted, and he went down with a splash. He was moving forward again before his hands had even left the ground, the sound of water swishing and splattering behind him far more threatening than the curses and growls emitted beside them.

_Weep not poor children~_

He was crying now, salt and water and blood mixing together to paint his ruined face with the same colors that were colliding in the evening sky at his back.

_For life is this way~_

He was halfway there when a hard weight slammed into his back. He crashed into the water, stones digging into his ribs and stabbing his hands and his knees as he tried and failed to catch himself.

_Murdering beauty and passions~_

No no no! No, they, he, he couldn’t! He wouldn’t! He couldn’t, he was so close, he could see the circle, he could hear the whispers of lyrics even as the men above him laughed and stomped, the cruel eyes that he knew were there chasing his mind as he fought to get upright.

_Hush now, dear children~_

One of the men pulled him up by his hair, the whole group laughing as they saw the bleeding cut reaching from the corner of his mouth to the base of his left ear, and the slashes and scratches tracing that side of his face.

_It must be this way~_

The two men turned, grabbing the collars of the snapping dogs as they lunged for him. He saw his chance and took it.

_To weary of life and Deceptions~_

He leapt forward, back towards the men as he rushed for the other side of the creek.

 _“Deception! Get back here!”_ They cursed at him. He didn’t care. His feet hit the sand on the other side, and the music filled his ears, lifting what seemed like his very soul up as he moved.

_Rest now, my children~_

The figure made of mist was in front of him now. It rose an arm, and he flinched. But the men behind him were the ones to shout. He froze as it moved to face him again, not daring to even breath.

_For soon we’ll away~_

The figure in the mist reached out a hand. He hesitated. What if they hurt him? But they saved him, and could he really be hurt any further than what those men had already done? He took their hand at the same time as the screams started. He didn’t dare look back.

_Into the calm and the quiet~_

The mist gently tugged him forward, and he moved with it, willing and pliant. Not a word was spoken between the two, but they walked together, hand in hand as they vanished into the circle.

And though it could have been a trick of the light? For a moment, in the brief pause between him stepping into the circle and then vanishing:

It almost looked as though the cuts on his face and his feet had turned into sunlight-colored scales.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this fic! And if you did, you can also screech at me on my tumblr, @surohsopsisofclouds!
> 
> The song used for this fic was Come Little Children by James Horner and Brock Walsh.


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